


Easter Disaster

by rextexx



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rextexx/pseuds/rextexx
Summary: Its Springtime in Lazytown, and that means the Easterbunny is just around the corner - and so is trouble !





	Easter Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Tried writing this in the style of an actual episode lol. Enjoy and Happy Easter yall!!

There comes a time in the life of an insomniac where coffee does not work anymore. When the unstoppable spasm of his muscles and tingling fingers stop being a proxy for the energy he needs to move and think properly.

At this point, only one thing helps him – brainstorming. Keep his mind busy to distract himself from the leaden weight of his own body pressing down on his bones and the burning behind his eyes. Usually its a shopping list of fabrics for his newest disguise, a new gadget to build or a new trap to craft. Tonight, however, his mind was completely empty. That was not a good sign.

  
“Think, Robbie. Think, think!” He's tapping the rubber end of his pen against his temple, nibbling on his lower lip. They were very abused from the constant chewing he did on them, some patches dry and riven.

“ Brilliant blue as … a puddle ? No. As the sky? Yes, better ! And your hair is as full and bright as … err. The sun?”

  
Robbie lowered the notepad, staring a hole into the air for several seconds as he tries to let his mind clear on its own. “Nah.” he decided, shaking his head like a wet poodle and erasing the last part. “Too cliché!” To be fair – the whole entire letter was filled with clichés. Sweet talks about how well he looked in blue and how brave and strong he was, how Robbie's heart picked up whenever he carried him around in his strong arms …

  
Robbie rested the tip of the pen on the paper, halting again, staring down onto the text. He's not entirely sure if anything his sleep deprived mind came up with made sense, nor if his shaky hand was writing down anything coherent. Concentrating on anything for too long made his eyes sting even harder and his mind going into shambles. Sometimes a veil of darkness fell over his eyes and for a brief second the villain felt himself sink further into his armchair, relaxing, sighing a breath of relief that his body had finally succumbed to sleep – only to find himself jerking out of the soft embrace of slumber again, wide awake, and one inch closer to insanity.

Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

His eyes shoot open again, moments after his body collapsed into the alluring softness of the furry armchair ; again, no sleep. His lower eyelid was beginning to twitch now. Looking down as he noticed the weight on his knee, he picked up the notepad which he had been scribbling on just moments ago.   
  
  
“O my beloved Sportacus, you are as glorious as a greek deity; your shine caresses my heart in ways I've never believed possible – BLEGH!!” Robbie promptly threw notepad plus pen away like he'd touched a cockroach.  
  
“ What even am I _doing_ anymore?! I've gone mad, haven't I?” he groaned into his hands. “W-Why – why cant I _sleep?!_ I'm tired, I've counted sheep, I've got my blanket!” As if any of these things has ever kept insomnia from keeping him awake. “I need sleep. Please.” he sobbed, pushing his face into the fur. “Just – sleep. Sleep now. Come on Robbie.”

  
Nothing.

  
“GAH!! I need a plan, I need a plan now !!” He scrambled out of his seat, grasping a box full of VHS cassettes. “What have I not tried yet? Nothing! I have tried everything! I have tried killer robots -” he tossed a cassette over his shoulder. “I have tried disguises-” a second joined the first on the floor. “Traps, inventions, rockets, canons, clones, sugarapples – “ Robbie's hand went for another cassette, only to see the box was empty, the content piled onto a large pile next to his armchair. Dumbly, he looked from the boy to the pile of VHS's and then, back into the air, staring holes. His expression went carefully blank.

  
“I'm out of ideas.” he said. He's oddly calm about that insight ; that the blue flipping menace he's been trying to get rid of for years now was still here, and he had officially had no more tricks up his sleeves. The box slips from his hand, and he's walking back into his chair as if nothing was the matter.  
  
  
And then it hit him.  
  


Not the realization, or sleep which he would've been very grateful for – something was literally hitting him from above.

  
“Ouch!” Robbie exclaimed, shielding the top of his head at the onslaught of pointy paper edges flying straight into the palm of his hands and bouncing off. Envelope after envelope came falling from the tubes directly onto his chair, and once it as over, he found his lap covered in mail. Bills. Of course it's bills.

In a sudden burst of energy solely fueled by frustration, he jumped to his feet. “I AM OUT OF IDEAS!” he practically sobbed. “I have tried everything in my might, and nothing has worked! Nothing! Ough, how did it come to this? Look at me, a sham, a shadow of my former self! What villain doesn't have a masterplan always ready to put into action?” He sighed, dropping his shoulders. The very force of that movement nearly knocked him out of his balance. “ There's nothing left I can do to get rid of this Sportaloser, Sportanerd, Sporta – _kook_!!” he spat out the last syllable. And nothing left I can do to run from those terrible feelings that keep me awake at night, his mind added. A snarl bubbled up in his throat as frustration turned into anger. “And now I'm gonna be all out of _money_ as well, if these vultures from the library keep burying me with their reminders and –“

And then it clicked. “Bury... _Bury_ …?” he repeated, eyes lighting up slowly. Buck teeth on full display, he grinned manically. “That gives me an idea !! ” He laughs, stumbling over VHS cassettes, envelopes and scattered popcorn, over towards his periscope, twisting and turning, enhancing the view until, sure enough, his gaze fell upon the mailbox standing close to the mayors office.

  
That candy boy, zigzag, whatever his name was, was heading for it, a roll of paper in his hand, which he dropped into the iron tube, pulling the lever. With a 'swshhh' sound, the letter was deployed, shooting straight towards the airship and vanishing.

“Boy oh boy, I sure hope Sportacus will come to our Easter party.” muttered the boy between nibbles o his lollipop.

  
“Oh? An Easter party?” his mood soured. Why did they not even bother asking if Robbie wanted to come as well? “Whatever. I wouldn't have wanted to join their stupid little easter party anyway!” he huffed.

And then, another idea came to his mind, “But Sportacus surely want to. As a matter of fact - “ he gazed down onto the pile of envelopes on his armchair. “I think he will have a lot of mail to open in future, haha !”  
  


  
'Mail incoming.' came the feminine voice of the AI. Sportacus stopped mid cartwheel, standing on his arms as the message tube jumped from the ground. Sportacus kicked the tube in time to let it bounce off of the padded walls of the airship and straight into his open hand once he was standing on his feet again.

“What's this?” he wondered, opening the plastic casing and unwrapping the paper. “Dear Sportacus, we want to invite you to the Lazytown's annual Easter Party. There is going to be a great Egg hunt down at the town's square and lots of delicious _sugarfree_ apple pies made by Miss Busybody. And in the evening, we plan on letting some paper lanterns fly by the beach. I hope you can make it! We will gather at the time square at four!” The letter was written in three different handwriting, one obviously belongs to the mayor, the one with the promised pies to Miss Busybody. And the last bit was Stephanie's with the pink hearts above the I.

  
“An Easter Festival.” Sportacus smiled. “That sounds like a great idea!” He fondly remembered the times when he was a small elf, painting eggs with watercolors with his mother, before his father picked him up for his superhero training. Its been a while since he really indulged himself in such festivities, his duties as a superhero taking up most of his time. This festival did sound nice though. He could enjoy himself, have snacks and if someone needed his help, he'd be glad to!

“Maybe I could help with preparations!” Ending the previously started, then interrupted, cartwheel, he called for the door to open and walk outside on his hands. “Rope” he called, tied the end to the hook on the platform, then with an elegant swing, he tangled his legs around the robe and lowered himself towards the ground. No need for the skuta or sky chaser today – birds were slowly returning from their winter travels back to the town, and he would not want to disturb them. Spring was the season of love after all. After several months of hibernation and long journeys to the warmer sides of the country, animals, as well as humans, crawled out of their hiding places to frolic in the first warm rays of spring, put off their thick winter coats and soak in the scent of nature coming back to life.

'I wonder if Robbie will be at the festival,' went through his head almost instinctively. Maybe. He wasn't a people person, unfortunately. But perhaps with some gentle coaxing and the promise of a slice of fresh delicious apple pie might convince to villain to join them. Just for a while.

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet touched the ground.

  
“Sportacus!” A familiar voice called right away. Stephanie was jogging up to him, a pink checkered apron wrapped around her, waving with baking gloves on her hands. “Hi!”  
  
“Hi Stephanie, you're helping Bessie with the pies?” Stephanie stopped, looking down on her gloved hands and laughed. “Yes, well, I was – they need some time to bake!” she quickly slipped them off her hands. “You got the invite?”  
  
“Yeah! An Easter festival sounds amazing! I haven't celebrated Easter in ages.”  
  
“Then its just about time you celebrate one with us.” she smiled, a small gap in her teeth where a recent milk tooth had fallen out. “I was just about to ask you if you could help me with the Egg hunt.”  
  
“Sure, what can I do?”  
  
“Well, for starters --” Stephanie grasped a giant basket, filled to the brim with eggs. “You could help me paint these!”  
  


 

He's quite impressed himself, how Robbie managed to carry a bag twice the size of himself through the dirty beaten path from his billboards towards the town, running on nothing but fitful ten second sleep and caffeine for 3 days in a row.

His goal was the blue mailbox situated close to the playground, where his evil plan would come into fruition. “Just some more – c'mon!” he panted, dragging the bag along the floor, swirling up dust.

Inside were tons and tons of letters. All individually enveloped and ready to be sent. At this point in his sleep deprivation, Robbie was discovering a rare powerful side of his body that managed to print out, type or even hand-write over thousands of letters in the span of a few hours.

With a huff, Robbie dropped the bag next to the mailbox.

No sign of the kids around. “Probably all busy with their stupid Easter festival.”

He stuck out his tongue in disgust. He still didn't care that they had completely failed to sent him an invite. He wouldn't have come anyway. Besides, if he did want to, he wouldn't need an invite. “Nobody tells _me_ which party I can attend and which I cannot!” 

He craned his head back and looked at the sky. Perfect. The airship was right above him. “Now, lets see if this works,” Robbie rubbed his hands together and slipped the first letter into a message tube, dropped it into the letter slot, and pulled the lever – with a loud _'zzwwush'_ sound, the tube shot up into the sky, precise like an arrow, and vanished inside the airship.

Robbie snickered, “Perfect!! Now, all we have to do is shoot up all these other letters. And once that Sporta-easteregg gets up there, the combined weight of him and the mail will crash his flying watermelon right to the ground!!”

His laughter echoed across the town, ebbing into a soft melancholic sigh. “Oh, fame is _suffocating_ , is it not?” he dropped the next letter into the slot.  
  


 

“Look, I made this one look like my uncle.” Stephanie giggled as she displayed her freshly painted egg. The resemblance was, well – uncanny. Whether that was intentionally or not. The round brown egg wore a yellow blazer and matching pants raked up high, a slightly drowsy smile and gray tufts of hair, while the top stayed blank.

Sportacus bit his lip to not start break out laughing. “It does look like him.”

  
They shared a secretive grin. The basket Stephanie had carried along was now filled to the brim with eggs in all colors. Some plain, and some with abstract forms, others with flowers and bees, and by now Stephanie had drawn every citizen of Lazytown on individual eggs, even Robbie. Sportacus just finished his own, painting an apple on one side and a pear on the other, and blew on it to let the paint dry quicker. He wasn't half as talented in drawing as Stephanie was – in fact, Sportacus wasn't even half as delicate with the eggs as she was, occasionally dropping one which smeared the paint or broke it completely.

At least Stephanie and Ziggy seemed to handle their canvases with more care. Sportacus leaned towards the blonde boy. “So what are you drawing?”  
  
“I'm drawing taffy on this one!” Ziggy proudly displayed every side of his colorful egg, covered in lollipops and wrapped pieces of taffy.  
  


He himself was covered in paint as well, spots on his cheek and forehead, in his hair, and on his clothes. He rubbed at them with the ends of his cape and made the whole mess even worse, but Sportacus would send Ziggy home to change once they were done.   
  
Stephanie laughed. “Ziggy, you drew taffy on every egg you painted.”  
  
“I know, I-I just – I start thinking of food when I'm excited.” he confessed, fumbling with his cape. “I just can't wait to start the egghunt. W-When are we gonna start, huh? Huh?”  
  
“Well, we still have...” Stephanie counted. “Twenty eggs to paint. And after that we gotta help Bessie with the cakes, and then we have to help my uncle with the banner, and then we gotta wait until the eggs are all hidden, and then - “  
  
Ziggy groaned. “But that's _sooo_ much to do.”

  
Sportacus grinned. Oh Ziggy – always wanting the surprise now. For a boy this small he had the enthusiasm of many. Gently, Sportacus patted his shoulder. “You have to be patient for good things to come, Ziggy. Look at all the amazing work you've already done by taking your time. Rushing won't bring you closer to your goal.”

He had an idea – with a lopsided smile, he picked up the next egg. “You know – I'm sure the Easter Bunny would be really proud of you guys if you managed to paint all the eggs in this basket.”

  
Ziggy's eyes went wide. “Have you ever met the Easter Bunny, Sportacus?”   
  
“Hmm, maybe. A few times.” Sportacus looked away, a small grin on his lips.  
  
Ziggy's jaw dropped. “St-Stephanie – Sportacus knows the Easter Bunny!” he whispered in awe. Stephanie might be a bit too old to still believe in the Easter Bunny, Sportacus thought, but the way she looked back at him he could tell she believed at least half of that story.

  
Suddenly, a bright flash started glowing in the corner of his eyes, his chest restricting – he looked down onto the emblem.

“Someone's in trouble!” at once, Sportacus was on his feet, dropping the egg in his hand. “Someones in trouble, oh no!” Ziggy cried out “I-I hope it's not the Easter Bunny!”

  
It wasn't the Easter Bunny. The distressed meowing coming from the tree tops indicated that it was an old furry friend of another species. With a series of flip, a cartwheel and a jump, Sportacus landed right underneath the branch where the crying came from. The kitten, now barely as small as it was the first time Sportacus rescued him, had gotten itself stuck on the same tree again. He jumped, grabbed the branch, and pulled himself up.

“You really gotta keep yourself out of trees, buddy.” he chuckled, scooped up the kitten and jumped down. Poor little fellow had clawed itself into his suit and Sportacus gently pried the small claws out from the fabric. “You gonna celebrate Easter too?” he asked. The kitten meowed.

 

“Sportacus, what happened?” Stephanie had dropped her brush as she jumped to her feet, once she spotted the blue superhero returning. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“Hey, isn't that the kitten there in his arms?” Ziggy pointed at the black ball of fur in the crook of Sportacus' arm.

  
“Everything's alright, Stephanie!” Sportacus jogged back to their little place on the grass. “Just the kitten again.” The kitten had curled itself into Sportacus' strong arm, stretched its paws, yawned, and blinked with its big yellow eyes. It seemed like it wasn't bothered in the slightest that he had disturbed their little get-together.   
  
“You seem awfully happy with getting yourself stuck in trees,” Stephanie shook her head. “This gotta be the fifth time this week that Sportacus had to help you out!”  
  
“Hey, I don't mind.” Sportacus scratched the kittens chin. “Its good to see him being so active! Maybe he's just chasing butterflies, or birds, he's always climbing the same tree.” He glanced at the tree top from which he had saved the feline and wondered if whatever tree dweller up there would be swift enough to escape the cat much longer once it's fully grown. Sportacus set the cat down on the grass.

The black feline purred, rubbed its body against Sportacus' boot, then against Ziggys, and trotted off into a bush. "Tsk. Cats."   
  
That's when Stephanie noticed the damp spot on his knee, yellowish with bits of broken eggshell. “Oh. Looks like you dropped an egg when the crystal went off.”

“Ew!” Ziggy grimaced. Sportacus rubbed at the spot but evidently only made it worse. “Hm, looks like I'm gonna need to change before we can begin with the festival.” He looked at the kids. “You two go and help Bessie with the cakes – I'll go to the airship, get changed and then I'll join you guys later, alright?”  
  
“Deal!” Stephanie tugged on Ziggy's cape. “Lets go.”

The kids left, and Sportacus called for the ladder. The hatch opened and it unrolled right before his feet, and Sportacus climbed it up to his airborne home.   
  
“Hello, Sportacus,” the AI greeted. “You've got mail.”  
  
“I do?” Sportacus turned around – and was greeted with several letters, scattered on the floor. More than usual. That was strange, Sportacus thought, but nevertheless, he bend down and picked them all up. Most of them had no indications of a sender, and if they were, they were definitely not from people Sportacus knew. He opened the first one.

He read the first few words and realized that it was just another copy of the invite the mayor had sent him. The mayor was a busy man, surely he must've forgotten that he already sent him one. He chuckled, opened the second one. He looked at a bunch of numbers that made no sense to him, even though he was quite proud of his mathematics - until he realized it was a bill.

“But I make my own electricity.” he said to himself. Maybe it was wrongfully sent to him? He placed it down on his table and opened the next one. Again, no indication of who sent it. It was a blank piece of paper. “This is strange.” he murmured, but kept going.

“Dear Mister -” the name was blank, “You have an overdue book from the library and we'd like it back. As of today your current fine amounts to four-thousand six-hundred dollars and six cents – oh no!” Sportacus opened his book shelf, looked up and down the amount of books he possessed. “But – these are all _my_ books. This must've been a mistake.” The next letter contained nothing but empty candy wrappers. “Ship, do you have any idea who could've send me these?”   
  
'Negative.' The ship replied, then: ' _Mail incoming.'_  
  


“What?” Sportacus frowned, as the hatch in the bottom of the ship opened an a new wave of letters came bursting into his house, scattering over the floor. “ _More_ mail?” he picked them up and scratched his head in confusion.

“O my beloved Sportacus, “ Sportacus read from the first letter. It was handwritten, “ you are as glorious as a greek deity; your shine caresses my heart in ways I've never believed possible, I wish you were mine...?”

His cheeks began burning once he realized what he was reading out loud there. Another burst of letters shot into the living room like a paper fountain, nearly hitting the superhero in the face, but Sportacus made an elegant flip backwards, dropping the letters in his hands.

  
“Th-This is ridiculous!” he blurted out. “I can't read this many letters.” And yet he tried, opening the first one he grasped – a drawing of himself, quite unflattering, with crooked teeth, a unibrow and unkempt mustache. He shuddered and instead grasped a new one. “Congratulations, you're the one thousands visitor of this page, get your reward here...” he picked up a new one. Alot of them were just blank sheets of paper, others more trash wrapped in envelopes, others quite obscene for his taste.

“Send this letter to five more people or the boogie man will come and kill you in 6 seconds.” and “Sportscandies in your area want to chat with you,” he opened one after another.

“100 Dollar Coupon for the Shop Til' You Drop channel,” 

“Recommended by your local doctor, take these pills to – _what?!_ ”

 

That was too much. “Ship, close the mail hatch.”

  
'Mail hatch closing,' the AI buzzed. 'But Sportacus, there is more mail coming.'   
  
“Where are all those letters coming from?” he wondered, watching as the hatch slowly closed – _BAM!_ With a loud crashing noise, the ship suddenly tilted to the right, throwing Sportacus off his feet, and with a startled 'Whoa!', Sportacus tumbled to the other side of the ship. Before he could hit the wall, he grasped the edge of his table and held onto it, while the ship tilted back into neutral position. “What was that?!”   
  
'Warning – Mail Hatch clogged.' The AI alerted.

“Clogged?” On wobbling legs, Sportacus hurried towards the opening in his floor, trying to keep his balance on the swaying blimp. He dropped to his knees, staring down into the chute. He was greeted with the sight of letters jammed into the small opening. “What is going on here?” He wondered out loud, dug his hands inside the letters and pulled – with an audible 'FFWOMP', the chute opened – and Sportacus was pushed back from the sheer force of tons of letters surging into his ship. It felt like a floodgate was opened, and the torrent came rushing into his ship.

  
Sportacus was buried beneath letters and letters, fighting himself back on his feet, he felt another violent shake, then a nauseating jolt, and suddenly the world around him was spinning. Clouds flew past the large windows of his airship, too quick as for a gust of wind to have picked up so suddenly. Sportacus knew what was happening as his eyes were trained in silent horror onto the piles of letters gathering.

 

“The ship is sinking! We're too heavy!”

 


End file.
